


One Word Title Trilogy (Move Your Body Meltdown Mix)

by WitchQueen (zvi)



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Alternate Universe, Europe-era, M/M, Popslash - Freeform, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-06
Updated: 2004-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-01 23:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zvi/pseuds/WitchQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in a band is both incestuous and carnivorous. They feed off each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Word Title Trilogy (Move Your Body Meltdown Mix)

**Author's Note:**

> Remix of [One Word Title Trilogy by Hayley](http://boudicca.com/funkofchuzz/trilogy.html) for We Invented the Remix 2: Son of Remix.

## III. Eyes

Chris saw Lance go into Justin's room. He saw Lance leave, smelling of sex and fear. He nodded, winked, smiled, and led Lance to his room, to his bed.

Lance's eyes were soft, heavy-lidded, but Lance's smile was wide and goofy. "You're just…wow. I can't believe this is happening. I've been sprung on you a long time."

Chris trailed a hand over Lance's face, let his fingers brush Lance's adam's apple. He unzipped Lance's tight black jeans and pulled the dull grey henley loose from them. His fingers went under Lance's shirt, feeling the muscles and the strength, searching for the pulse point.

"Chris?" Lance's voice was too calm, too empty.

Chris didn't know how to deal with Lance. Normally, he'd drink the fear down, put his arms around Lance and whisper nonsense in Lance's ear and have a little snack. That wasn't really an option now. Chris couldn't open his mouth.

Lance sat up and pulled back from Chris. "What's happening here? Is this?" He swallowed, looked down. "You and Justin pulling some kind of prank?" He smiled, camera smile, pulled his shirt down and pants up.

Chris placed a hand on Lance's, squeezed. Closed his eyes and opened them. He was trying to pull off the mask, lift the glamour, communicate his feelings with his eyes. He wasn't sure he could, it had been so long since he'd let himself feel what he was feeling in a dangerous situation like this. Living on other people's feelings was tricky, and his own emotions could get in the way.

Lance looked silently into his eyes. "Better," he said, after a while. "But tell me what we're doing here. You were going to do whatever the hell it is you and Justin do, and I don't want that."

Chris shrugged. He opened his mouth to say, 'I think you should go.' But it was too late once he opened his mouth, of course, when he could taste Lance on the air, arousal and fear whetting his appetite. So, instead of protecting Lance, keeping the promise he'd made not to take what wasn't given off freely, he gave Lance what Lance needed to hear. "You have no idea how badly I want you, right here and right now." He reached for the shirt and pulled it over Lance's head. "You've never known how delicious you are."

Lance snorted. "You didn't used to think I was so hot."

"Maybe we both grew up. Twenty looks good on you." Chris slipped his hand around the back of Lance's neck, pulled the two of them together. He whispered into Lance's mouth, "I need to taste you." He licked Lance's lips, then kissed Lance, his lips pressed closed. Lance's mouth opened under his, and the last chance he had of getting them out of this safely disappeared.

Lance tasted warm and alive and whole, all the things Chris hadn't been in so, so long. "I need you." He pushed Lance backward on the bed. "I need you to be naked right now." He unzipped Lance, yanked down the jeans and briefs, just enough to expose Lance's cock.

It was soft, but that was fine, good, better than hard even. Chris sucked it down, felt Lance's cock grow in his mouth, in his throat. Lance was moaning, Lance was talking, but Chris couldn't really hear it. Lance's legs were wrapped around his head, he was shrouded in warm, wet heat, and a taste that was almost everything he wanted, everything he needed. Chris got one hand on Lance's thigh, but one he worked under Lance's ass, in Lance's jeans. He pulled on Lance's balls and the noise increased. Lance started thrusting, bucking, and Chris pulled his hand back, stuck two fingers in Lance's ass.

He felt Lance start to come and his fangs came out, pierced Lance right above the pubic bone. He sucked Lance down.

## II. Teeth

Chris watched JC watching Joey at dinner. JC wasn't obviously staring. He was just listening to Joey talk, which didn't seem too alarming, until you realized that Joey was talking about Superman. JC didn't like Superman, he thought the guy barrelled through the human world, trying to protect it, without the ability to be of it or understand it. Joey thought Superman was perfectly perfect in every way, so they didn't talk about him.

Except that tonight, JC smiled and nodded as Joey rambled about how Superman defeated Mothra or Gargantua or some big, ugly alien while never quite hooking up with Lois Lane, and JC asked a question which sounded like interest instead of cross-examination.

Chris narrowed his eyes at that. He kicked Justin under the table, but sneakily, by putting his leg in front of Justin and kicking backwards.

Justin reacted beautifully. "Hey, watch it, C! I gotta wow Europe on these legs."

JC looked up, blinked dazedly. "Um, what?"

The one thing Justin liked less than being attacked was being misunderstood. He huffed and puffed and made enough noise that everyone started bolting dinner. JC kept his head down for the rest of the meal, and Joey didn't say another word. Justin prattled on and on, with occasional sympathetic noises from Lance, who inexplicably found Justin's diva act amusing. Lynn could only take Justin's fit for about ten minutes, before she told him to stop acting like a child. "You're fifteen, Justin, not five. Grow up."

Chris went looking for Joey after dinner, finally checked the room Joey and JC would share that night. JC let him in, and Chris barrelled in right past him. The bed Joey was lying on was rumpled, the other still hotel maid neat. The tv was turned to The X Files dubbed in German.

Chris sighed, then put a smile on his face. "Hey, man, are we gonna do that thing tonight?" He put his hand on his upper thigh, right above where Joey had marked him last.

Joey took a couple deep breaths and wrinkled his nose, then shook his head. "I don't think so, man. Like, it was good when we got here, but—"

"What thing?" asked JC. He walked past Chris to sit on the undisturbed bed.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Joey and I have been practicing German."

JC giggled. "Is that what y'all call it when you go to a club and strike out so bad you end up with each other?"

"Shut up, JC." Chris turned his back to JC deliberately, looked at Joey. "So, are we on?"

Joey shook his head. "I think my German's good enough, man. Like, the danger of me getting slapped or whatever is passed, and you're all," he looked past Chris, to JC, "you're all tired or whatever lately. I'm going to hit a club, see if I can go home with someone."

JC giggled, and Chris turned around, saw the half-smile he wore to cut a girl out of the crowd.

There was a knock at the door. "We're heading to the vans, people. Get your asses out here."

The concert that night was strangely amazing, exhilarating. Chris always felt the audience's energy, their movement. They all did, the way a sea of teenage girls was like a living thing that sent you love in exchange for yours. And Chris always sent and received loved, but usually there was a loss, a point where the audience asked for more than it sent. They didn't sing every song, they didn't do all the dance moves, and if they wanted, they could stop and get something real to eat. Doing a concert was work.

Or it usually was. Tonight, doing the concert was pure energy. The longer he was out on stage, the better Chris felt. He imagined he could feel the love of individual girls, know a little bit about their stories, the way Joey seemed to. He was imagining it, of course. Too many nights with Joey describing the life of a blonde in the fourth row or a redhead down in front.

Walking off stage after the concert, Chris deliberately stumbled, almost fell down. Four guys asked if he was okay, but JC was the one to put an arm around Chris's waist.

Chris ducked his head so he could turn his smile into a grimace of pain. "I'm okay. I think I landed funny on that last flip, but it's not that bad. I'll stay in tonight, stay off the leg."

"I've got an ace bandage in my bag," said JC. "Stay in my room tonight, put Joey in the single. I'll grab some ice, take care of you."

Now Chris did smile and let JC see it. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it." He gave JC a little more of his weight and grunted from non-existent pain.

He let JC support him from the tour van all the way back to the room, kept up the act as Joey switched their bags, but when Joey was gone and JC approached with a bucket of ice, Chris put up one hand to stop him.

JC pulled up short. "What?"

"I lied. My foot's fine."

JC frowned. "You could have just said you wanted to talk."

Chris smiled, shook his head. "I don't want to talk."

"Then what do you want?" asked JC.

"I want you." Chris reached out and put his fingers to JC's jaw. As he dragged them down JC's neck and chest and stomach, he found it was true. This wasn't about keeping Joey from JC anymore, it was about getting JC for himself. "You are really astonishingly—"

JC took a step back from the bed and shook his head. "Chris, this is a bad scene. You and Joey just—"

"There is no me and Joey, JC." Chris stood up, stood right inside JC's personal space. He put one hand on JC's hip, the other on the back of his neck. "You've seen us both pick up plenty of girls." Chris put his mouth near JC's ear, but when Chris smelled him, a heavy warm smell that filled nose and mouth, Chris lost track and just licked him. JC tasted the same as he smelled, like a man in motion, blood flowing and sweating freely.

JC leaned his head back and said, "Chris, I really don't think this is a good idea."

Chris knew he was doing this the wrong way, but he couldn't think somehow. It wasn't the regular unthinkingness of life on tour, without enough food or sleep or warmth. He'd been dealing with various degrees of that all his life, and he could work around it. And he wasn't nervous, even though he was fucking up his chances by the way he kept pressing his body closer to JC, the way he couldn't stop sniffing at JC, in the crook of JC's neck and the back of JC's ears, where JC's scent was trapped and his blood beat near the surface. He tried to say something, but the most he managed was a distracted 'mmm'.

JC tried to pull away, and Chris reflexively looked in JC's face and smiled.

Only it wasn't just smiling, it felt different than that, like his face went _loose_ for a moment.

Whatever it was, it got JC reaching for him, grabbing his ass, biting at his neck. Chris went 'mmm' again, but heartfelt this time. He put his hand between JC's legs and found JC's cock heavy and hot, but not completely hard.

"You're so hot." JC leaned back and put his hand to Chris's face, slipped his fingers under Chris's jaw. The other hand moved from Chris's ass to his zipper, quickly drawing it down. "This is stupid, but I'm gonna…."

Chris nodded and pulled JC closer, he started to say 'fuck', but he caught his lip on his teeth. Caught his lip hard enough to bleed and the blood tasted good, like European chocolate, like a good thick steak, like Halloween candy, like Chicago-style pizza. The taste in his mouth distracted him from JC's hand in his pants for one heartbeat, two.

JC bit Chris's ear. "Lie down. Gonna blow you." JC pushed and Chris fell backwards. JC pulled Chris down so his ass just balanced on the bed. He got Chris's jeans ankle-low in the same maneuver.

Chris put a hand over his mouth, afraid of making noise, afraid of the way he felt hungry and empty now. Afraid of the way he could still hear JC's heartbeat, while JC knelt at the end of the bed.

JC took Chris's dick in his hand and Chris whimpered and twitched. JC sucked Chris's dick, sliding his lips down until he met the fist clenched at the base and Chris bit his own hand.

Or, not so much bit his hand, as the newly sharp teeth he'd scratched himself with now extended to fangs that sank in his own flesh, cut through skin and muscle so fast and deep it didn't really hurt. He mostly knew what happened because of the blood that welled up.

The taste of the blood, the richness of it, the way it rolled around filled his mouth, combined with the feel of JC's mouth on his dick, the wet warmth and gentle suction. It was overwhelming He pulled his hand out of his mouth, groaning as he did so. JC pulled off, and Chris came, but it wasn't right, wasn't enough.

He pushed himself up and dragged JC up, over him, kissed JC very, very hard, but with his mouth closed. JC smelled so sexy, but he also smelled like dinner, and Chris didn't know what to do except keep his mouth shut and smile, smile, smile.

## I. Blood

It was late on Thursday when they got the call. BMG was going to take Lance, take the name, and take N'Sync to Germany.

Chris and Justin both started jumping around the living room, and JC sang a victory song about dancingless singing boys with killer voices. Lance just smiled and melted against JC, looking at ease for the first time since the other call, the one where BMG said they didn't want him.

It wasn't until Justin accidentally on purpose knocked Chris into a wall, and Chris purposefully on accident knocked the kid to the ground, and completely intentionally sat on the little fucktard's head that he noticed that Joey did not look happy.

Joey was smiling and talking fast, hands flying, head nodding, telling JC and Lance about all the German chicks he would bag. But the movements were too sharp, without Joey's usual sloppiness.

JC caught Chris's eye and raised his eyebrows, chin casually tilting toward Joey.

Chris shrugged.

JC said, "Now is the time for celebratory Freez-E Ice, and Chris and Joey should get it for me. Us."

Chris had to resort to armtwisting and mostly friendly punching to get Joey out of the house and keep Justin in it, but the two of them were on their way in about twenty minutes.

They walked to 7-11 and didn't say anything. Chris was picking up two grape pops (one for Justin, one for JC) before he realized that either he or Joey didn't have the script. He had figured Joey needed some old guy mentoring, reassurance that missing your mom didn't make you a sissy boy and wouldn't keep you from touring Europe successfully. If that wasn't Joey's problem….

The first words out of his mouth when they left the store were, "So, Joey, what's your problem?"

Joey tripped on air, but he recovered without dropping Lance's lemon ice. Little red spots were all over his t-shirt from his own popsicle though. "I can't go to Germany."

Chris didn't trip. He just stopped walking and sat on a convenient patch of sidewalk. "Why not?" He tried for a soothing, therapist-voice. He wasn't doing it for Joey's benefit, so much as his own. Speaking calmly let him feel less murderous.

Joey didn't sit down, but he stood next to Chris, looked away from him and towards the sunset. "Can't pick up girls if I don't speak the language. Gotta pick up girls or I'll die."

Chris burst into laughter. "You've gotta—."

Joey looked at him, and Chris didn't think Joey was exaggerating anymore. Joey always looked good enough to pick up chicks easy, but now he looked like sex on a stick: his cheekbones sharp, his nose strong and defined instead of overwhelming, his skin flawless. He looked liked Joey distilled into his prettiest elements. Hell, the sharp fangs poking between Joey's newly full mouth were attractive, even as they were frightening as fuck.

"It's not what you think, exactly. I mean," Joey waved at the sun, "I'm fine with garlic and sunlight and I have to eat real food or I'll starve to death."

Chris nodded, dazed by the unreality of this conversation. "But you need, like, dietary supplements." He tapped his index finger to his jugular.

Joey nodded.

The silence lingered a moment. Chris pointed at Joey's face. "You think you'll have trouble picking up chicks looking like that?"

Joey shrugged, and as his shoulders settled into place his face went back to normal. He shrugged again. "I _ask_ before I take a girl all the way. What kind of shit do you think I am? Yeah, I could probably get German girls to my room, but they wouldn't know the whole story."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Dude, like that, you're pretty enough that _I_ would do you. I'm sure they'd be happy to—what?"

Joey was smiling and it was a real, beautiful Joey smile. "Do you mean it?"


End file.
